


Harlequin Boys

by lustingiero (frnkxo)



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Angst, Crimes & Criminals, Domestic Violence, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Insanity, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Organized Crime, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Tags May Change, Violence, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-29 17:57:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8499643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frnkxo/pseuds/lustingiero
Summary: Frank Iero was bored with his life. His days were filled with classes and papers, and though he was working towards something he wanted, he wasn't sure if he wanted more. Though he wasn't exactly sure what "more" was until he met Gerard Way and was swept up into a life of crime.*ON HAITUS*





	1. Recollection

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to state, before I even start, that I do not think domestic abuse/violence is okay by any means. I don't condone that or approve of it. This is purely fiction and the purpose of it is to entertain and tell a story. That story won't always be happy, otherwise that would be quite boring.

Looking back, I think it was pretty obvious what I was getting myself into. Of course I didn't realize it at the time, what 19 year old would? Or maybe I did but I didn't care. It was probably the latter. I was desperate to find an outlet, something to let out my frustrations. Sure, I had guitar and that was fun, but it just wasn't enough. I needed a thrill, an adventure, and I sure as hell got one. It was more than I'd bargained for and it threw my life off the course it was on, but I wouldn't have changed it. Not then, not now.

I was a college student, young and perhaps naive about the workings of the world, going to school for psychology. I had wanted to become a therapist. Pretty ironic if you think about it now. But that's what I wanted to do, so that's what I had been doing. At first, I was excited and eager to get started, always early to class and sticking to due dates. Over time, however, I began to find myself rolling out of bed with five minutes to class starting. I started slacking, turning things in late, not bothering to email my professors or even get properly dressed. They stopped asking what was wrong. Everything blended together, one day melted into the next, I stopped feeling human. My mundane life had finally started eating away at my mental health. I wanted something to make me feel human again, something to bring me back to life.

I found myself sitting at my desk in my dorm, fingers hovering over the keyboard, itching to type something into the search engine on the screen. I couldn't find the words to type though. What did I want? It wasn't like you could just go to Amazon and order what I wanted. I sat back in my chair and took my hands from the keyboard, rubbing my face and sighing heavily. Drugs, right? I wanted drugs.

A sinking feeling, something I'd become accustomed to, burned its way into my stomach. I had given up trying to put a name to it. Whether it was hopelessness, boredom, fear, depression, or some sickly mix of the four, I knew I felt it far too often. It started to grow around me, gradually becoming a friend that I didn't want around. The thing about emotions and thoughts is that you can't just tell them to fuck off (trust me, I'd tried to). They don't seem to get the idea that humans do when you tell them you want to be left alone. Emotions are stubborn, thoughts are persistent, and I was desperate for an escape from the two and their unbearable omnipresence.

Back to the topic at hand, I had wanted drugs. But, as previously mentioned, drugs are not one of those things you can have conveniently shipped to your doorstep. I would need to work my way to them, if I was that dedicated. And I was. So, I decided, my next course of action was to attend a frat party. I heavily despised the idea, but it was my only way to wiggle into a world so starkly different from my own. I didn't, by any means, expect to find any hard drugs there. What I did expect was to find someone who knew a guy, who knew a guy, who knew a guy.

* * *

 

Come Friday night, I once again found myself in a position I'd rather not be in. Though I'd resigned to the fact that I'd have to go to this ridiculous frat party, I had underestimated just how annoying everyone would be. My roommate found it odd that I had inquired about any parties taking place that weekend, but he had given me the information I needed anyway and then insisted we go together. I suppose it was his way of bonding with me since we rarely talked and at the time I had found it sweet, but once we actually got there, he was nowhere to be found. I, of course, didn't mind this. Yeah, he was a nice guy and it would've been nice to know him while I had the chance to, but I had gone there with a mission that I intended to complete. I wouldn't let him stand in the way of that, not that he really tried.

I walked into the horrendously lit room, strobe lights reflecting across my face and body, and attempted to look around. I realized then that I had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to be looking for. I mentally kicked myself for being so stupid. I should've solidified a plan before coming here. That sinking feeling in my stomach came gnawing its way back in. If I had to waste another day going to another frat party I'd probably implode.

"Frank!" I heard someone call my name over the music and flinched, nearly curling into myself. I didn't need to be distracted, I was already off course as it was. Despite my reluctance, I turned around to find the source of the voice. A familiar face made its way over to me, though I couldn't place a name to the young man. I remembered him from class, but God, what the hell was his name? "What are you doing here?" He asked, a grin plastered on his face. He looked elated to see me yet I didn't even know the guy's name.

"Uh," I stammered, looking around for some excuse. "I don't know, honestly." I spat out, without really meaning to. It was partially true, I was clueless, and I suppose I needed some kind of reassurance from someone. He seemed to know me, maybe he'd say something to comfort me since my discomfort was so blatant. I could feel a blush creep up on my face and hoped he couldn't see it in the dark room.

"It's just surprising to see you here is all, since I've never figured you for a party-goer. You're always really quiet in class." He shrugged a shoulder and took a sip from his red plastic cup.

"Ross!" I exclaimed, the name jumping to the forefront of my mind. That's who this guy was! Our professor always called out last names the first week of class, that's the only reason I knew. I only really paid attention to that during the first week before my mind had gone numb. His face contorted with confusion, his eyebrows furrowing together slightly before they smoothed back out upon him figuring out why I had yelled out his last name.

"Ryan," He smiled softly and chuckled, realizing I had forgotten his name.

"Ryan. Right. I'm sorry-" I had begun to apologize but he cut me off, shaking his head and waving a hand dismissively.

"No, it's fine. I don't blame you, we don't talk much." I nodded and smiled sheepishly, not sure what else to say. We sat like that for a few seconds, an awkward silence surrounding us, before he chose to speak again. "Hey, do you smoke?" My ears perked up at this.

"Smoke? Like, cigarettes? Or..." I trailed off, not wanting to seem eager. I smoked sometimes, it wasn't exactly a habit, but even some nicotine could've done me some good then. Ryan rolled his eyes and smirked.

"Pot. Weed? Marijuana?" He listed the different names and gave me a questioning look. It clicked for me that Ryan could be that guy. He just happened to walk up at the right moment and hand himself to me. I hadn't even needed to look around. The convenience took me aback for a few seconds and I shook my head to compose myself again.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I do." I lied, though it didn't even sound convincing to my own ears.

"C'mon." Ryan reached out took my wrist, dragging me through the party to a door marked "EXIT". We pushed our way out and the cool Autumn air hit us nicely, relieving our skin of the heat that had accumulated inside. I hadn't realized how hot I had gotten or how badly I needed a breath of fresh air.

I looked over at Ryan who was pulling a joint out of a small plastic bag he'd stuffed in his pocket. He placed it tentatively between his pink lips and lit it, pulling on it lightly before handing it over to me. I stared at it for a second, nearly forgetting that I was there and not watching through a screen. I looked back up at him, not sure what exactly I was asking him with my eyes, but I must've looked scared because his lips turned up at the corners in amusement.

"You don't smoke," He laughed lightly, though it didn't sound condescending and I silently appreciated him for it.

"Well, not weed." I admitted sheepishly, rubbing my arm and averting my eyes to the pavement.

"That's okay, I won't force you." He smiled softly and brought the joint back to his own mouth before leaning against the building casually. Suddenly, I felt out of place again.

"Should I..." My eyes flickered back to the door, non-verbally asking if I should leave him alone. He shook his head and turned more fully towards me, giving me his full attention.

"No, stay. I wanna figure you out." Ryan turned his head to blow smoke into the night air, away from my face. Again, I appreciated him for that and I wondered why I had never talked to him before that night.

"Figure me out?" I asked. "What's there to figure out?" I let out a light laugh despite my confusion.

"You know, you're just... really quiet. You don't really have any friends on campus and you keep to yourself so you're kind of this huge mystery to everyone." He explained to me with that same gentle smile on his face. I looked up into his eyes and realized how kind they were and once again questioned how I had never noticed him.

"A mystery." I repeated out loud, though not to anyone in particular. I hummed thoughtfully. "I don't mean to be. I guess I just get wrapped up in my own world. I'd hate to blame everyone else for not initiating conversation, but I don't find much reason to talk to anyone, you know? I don't know, school just eats up all of my time." I found myself nearly pouring myself out to him without meaning to and smiled sheepishly.

"I actually kinda figured that." He said thoughtfully and sucked on the joint. "You okay, Frank?"

The question shocked me into silence as I stared at him, nearly dumbfounded. When was the last time someone asked me if I was okay? Was I? Hell no I wasn't.

"Uh, no. Not really." I didn't see much reason to lie. Ryan seemed nice enough and I needed someone to confide in. He offered the joint to me again, concern spread itself across his face.

"Wanna talk about it?"

I took a drag easily, pulling the smoke into my lungs and holding it while I mulled over what I wanted to say. I let it out and kept my eyes trained on my shoes. Suddenly they looked very interesting and less intense than the concern in Ryan's eyes.

"School is eating me alive." I decided. "But it's also all I have. I mean, God, I don't do anything else. I play guitar sometimes but that's really it. I'm not in any clubs, I don't have any friends, my life is a joke." I laughed bitterly and pulled more smoke from the blunt. I let the minimal buzz of the THC sink into my brain and numb it in a different way than I was used to. "I actually, uh, I came here looking for something." I admitted before I had the chance to stop myself. I turned back to Ryan who now had a certain kind of gleam in his eyes, though I couldn't place a name to it. They flickered down to the blunt between my fingers and then back up to my own eyes.

"You came here looking for harder drugs." He didn't say it like a question, he said it like a statement. The coldness of his voice put me off and my heart started beating rapidly in my chest. Why had I told him that? I assumed immediately that he'd go and tell the Dean of the school and get me expelled.

"Ryan-" I started, scrambling to find words to launch at him. As much as I hated being in school, it was the only thing keeping me grounded. He couldn't go and take that from me. Just as I had begun chastising myself for trusting him too quickly, the same soft smile grew on his lips again.

"You're not gonna find anything more than weed and acid at frat parties, Frank." Ryan said as if it were very silly of me to have thought otherwise.

"No, I know!" I nodded, not sure why I felt the need to prove myself. "I know, I just thought I could find someone." I wasn't sure if that made sense to him at first, but it must have because he responded immediately.

"Oh, got ya. Well, I guess we're both in luck then." The statement confused me at the time but I had written it off. Later I'd come to realize what he meant. "You looked like a lost puppy in there, you could've gotten yourself in a lot of trouble, Frank." I liked that he tacked my name onto the end of his sentences and I liked the way he said it too.

"I, um," I stuttered, not sure how to ask what I wanted to ask. "Are you- Do you-"

"Do I know someone? Yeah."

I breathed a sigh of relief. I don't know how he managed to read my mind, unless I was that transparent, but I was thankful for it nonetheless.

"But I want to make sure that you want this first. I mean, maybe that's reckless of me and stupid but... I don't want to throw you in and then watch you not be able to get back out." He said, concern once again etching into his features. "You gotta really want this Frank, otherwise... Otherwise it's stupid. It's stupid anyway but don't do this on a whim."

"I want this. No, Ryan, I need it. God, do I need it." Any wall that I had up before that went tumbling down. I let him see how beaten down and hopeless I was and I think that was enough to make him not question me further. He nodded solemnly and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small piece of paper with a number written on it. He handed it to me and I took it, shoving it into my own pocket.

"Call me on Sunday, okay? That'll give you a day to really think about this. If you decide you still wanna go through with it I'll pick you up and take you... I'll take you." He trailed off at the end before repeating himself more firmly. I think he realized that he had started saying too much and had to stop himself.

Before I had the chance to respond, he smiled and walked back into the building, letting the door shut behind him.


	2. A Very 'Ryan' Backstory

I texted Ryan the following day in hopes for conversation to ebb my growing loneliness, but ended up getting chastised. He told me that he'd love to talk, but he didn't want to influence my oh-so-important decision and therefore wouldn't reply to me further. I understood his apprehensiveness (at least I thought I did) but it still frustrated me. Ryan managed to become my only friend very quickly which in turn put my isolation in perspective. I had gotten so used to being alone that I forgot what it was like to have someone to turn to and once I finally did, I craved his attention.

Saturday came and went with little change. Despite one or two lapses of my judgement where I wondered what the hell I was thinking, I always settled back to being determined to get high. I think it occurred to me at some point that nothing would really change after I snorted a bit of coke up my nose. I would just come down and be stuck in my life all over again. However, a certain type of feeling sat in my stomach that told me that wasn't the case. Maybe it was me being naive again, but I couldn't put the idea out of my mind that something more would come of it. Later, much later, I'd learn that your gut feeling is always correct.

Finally, Sunday came. I could barely sleep the night before due to nerves and excitement. Nerves because I really had no idea where I was going and I'd have to trust Ryan after a day of knowing him. Nerves because I was waking up to the first day of a possible drug addiction. Nerves because something big was going to happen, even if only my subconscious was aware of it. On the other hand, I was very excited to see Ryan again, this time in the daylight. I tried to picture his face in my mind but all I could conjure up was shadows and the gentle smile that graced his lips so often. I was going to see my friend, and something about that filled me with a sense of childlike excitement.

I rolled out of bed and picked up my phone to check the time. 11 AM. The sun had barely risen but we usually got up much earlier than that for class so I assumed Ryan would be awake by now. My thumb hovered over the button to call him and butterflies filled my stomach before I forced my finger down and put the cellphone to my ear. He picked up on the third ring.

"Frank!" Ryan answered. He sounded just as excited as he had on Friday night. It was endearing and put a warm feeling inside me. I sat up and hugged my pillow to my chest. "Did you decide?" I could hear the nervousness in his voice, though at the time I didn't think about what he had to be nervous about.

"Yes. I, um, I still wanna do it." I nearly whispered, giddy or scared or something in between. I thought I could hear Ryan breathe a sigh of relief.

"Okay, okay. Good." His smile was audible. "Text me which dorm you're in, I'll come get you, okay? Don't worry, Frank, it'll be fine." I felt a rush of emotion all at once. Firstly, I had melted yet again at his use of my name. I realized that the only people I heard saying it were professors and administrators and I'd missed how it sounded coming from a friend. Secondly, I mentally thanked him for the reassurance and for his ability to know when I needed it. Ryan could read my mind, I was sure of it.

"Okay, I will. Thank you for this, Ryan."

"Of course, Frank."

 

I pulled myself out of bed and got ready fairly quickly. I tugged on a pair of jeans and a band shirt that I didn't bother reading, then put my lip ring in and clicked it against my teeth. I noticed that I was putting more effort into my appearance now than I had on Friday night and laughed at myself. I wasn't sure exactly what I was dressing up for, Ryan, or the drug dealer I'd meet later. I told myself that the people they must see can't look much better than I do, in fact, they probably looked a lot worse. I shrugged the thought away and took a handful of cash to shove into my pocket before walking out the door.

Ryan was leaning against his car, looking down at his phone, so he didn't notice me until I walked up to him. He looked worried, his eyebrows pressed together as he stared harshly at the screen. Nerves jumped back up my throat and my feet stopped by themselves, eager to turn and run back to my dorm. It was too late though, because he looked up at me and gave me that smile he always did, the worried look he'd had before vanished.

"Frank," He said simply, and I smiled at him. He seemed to always greet me with my name instead of a 'hello'. I was perfectly fine with that.

"Ryan," I let his name slide off my tongue as I examined his face in the daylight. His short hair matched the shade of brown of his eyes and his features were welcoming and soft. If there were such a thing as falling in love with someone in a platonic sense, that would've been the moment that I fell. I cursed myself for not having talked to him sooner, I think I'll always regret that. In fact, maybe things wouldn't have ended up the way they did if I had just started a conversation with him the first day of class. On the other hand, I silently thanked him for having come up to me at that stupid frat party on Friday because God knows I wouldn't have approached him.

"Ready to go, Iero?" He asked playfully. I felt my cheeks heat up and nodded quickly before walking around the car and sliding into the passenger seat. He started the car and pulled out.

"So..." I started, a bit eager to have a conversation. After all, I had wanted to talk to him all day yesterday. "Can I ask?"

"Ask?" His eyes flickered to me, then back to the road. "Ask what?" His voice was light and casual.

"Mm," I bit my lip, unsure if what I wanted to ask was appropriate or not. "Never mind." I decided and turned to look out the window.

"Frank," Ryan started, I could hear the smile in his voice. "You can ask me, it's okay."

"You don't know what I was going to ask."

"Yes I do." He nodded and the smile continued to play at his lips. I had momentarily forgotten his ability to read my mind. Was he aware of it? Could he read everyone's mind? "You were going to ask how I know the person I'm taking you to see, right? Or how I got into this business?"

"Both." My cheeks burned pink but I turned to look at him anyway.

"Well, if I'm being honest, Frankie, I didn't mean to." My heart fluttered at the nickname. "I met him at a bar that, admittedly, I shouldn't have been in. I had gotten drunk off my ass, like, totally wasted, right? It was last year, I was only 18 so I had to get people to buy drinks for me. A ton of people already had, but I was switching up so I didn't have to stick with one of them. Ya know, because if someone buys you enough drinks they automatically assume you owe them something. So, I went up to him to try to get him to buy me one and he could tell just how freakin' drunk I was, and instead of giving in to my requests, he asked if I was there with anyone. Naturally, I would've lied and told him yes because that type of shit usually freaks me out, but, being wasted and all, I told him no. I told him the truth. One thing lead to another and he wound up taking me home with him. He took care of me, made sure I didn't do anything stupid. He didn't take advantage of me like I thought he would. And so the next day he nursed me back to health through the worst hangover of my life and..." He trailed off, stopping at a red light and relaxing in his seat. He looked ahead at nothing in particular and I could tell he was somewhere else, somewhere in his memories. It must've been a good place though because the corners of his mouth were turned upwards and I could practically see his heart beating out of his chest.

"And you fell in love with him." I finished for him and he turned to set his gaze on me. It was a knowing look that didn't need words to accompany it. It was a look that said, 'Yes, I am absolutely utterly in love with him' all on its own. Ryan turned back to the road once the light turned green and began driving again. "How did he tell you?"

"That he was a drug dealer?" He asked, amusement in his voice. I nodded before realizing he wasn't looking at me.

"Yeah, that."

"It was, uh, well... He didn't exactly tell me. I kinda just figured it out, ya know? And we fell into certain habits and routines and before I knew it, I was helping him." He shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly.

"You just figured it out?" He nodded, knowing I was staring intently at him despite being turned away. "That's not surprising." I murmured.

"It's not?" Confusion laced into his voice. On second thought, maybe it was intrigue. "Why's that?"

"Because you're smart." I said, as if it were the most obvious thing ever. He laughed a bit under his breath and shook his head.

"I am in college, ya know, Frankie."

"No, no. Not like that. You're just... You can just... You have this thing about you." I said, unable to articulate exactly what it was about him that boggled my mind so much.

"What are you talking about?" Ryan allowed himself to grin and laugh harder at my loss for words.

"You can read minds!" I insisted, realizing that his smile had rubbed off on me and now we were matching.

"No, I can't, Frank. You're just very easy to read."

"Oh," My voice became soft and I felt myself blush again. "Now I feel stupid." I admitted, clicking my lip ring against my teeth as a nervous habit.

"No, don't take it that way! It's not a bad thing. I think we're just on the same wavelength. Our minds are connected." He stated happily as he stopped the car in front of a house that, I admit, was far nicer than I expected. "Are you nervous?" He asked, quietly. Despite the softness of his voice, I still flinched at it. I hadn't realized I was staring so intensely at the house, as if I were trying to see into it.

"Is it obvious?" I tried to add humor to my voice but it only made me sound more scared.

"Don't be. Brendon's a really nice guy, okay? I wouldn't love him if he wasn't." Like usual, I could hear the smile in his voice, but this time it was also dripping with sincerity and unquestionable fondness. "You'll be okay, Frankie. We'll be okay." I inhaled deeply and shook my head slowly.

"I certainly hope that's true."

"Hey," I broke my staring contest with the house to meet his eyes with my own. His were caring and comforting and I willed him to say the words 'You don't have to do this'. "You have a thing about you too."

"What? I do?" I tilted my head to the side, taken aback. He nodded.

"It's like this quiet intelligence. I don't even think you're aware of it, but you know things. It's like your mind is on a totally different level than everyone else's. I think that's a reason why you don't find it interesting or necessary to talk to anyone. I don't think it's my place to say it, but I think you're smart too, Frank."

"I am in college, you know, Ryan." I said, managing to work humor into my voice. Despite my joking response, what Ryan said to me that moment in the car touched my heart and I never forgot it. I don't think he did either.


	3. Open The Door

Ryan led me to the door of the too-white house and turned to me. The expression on his face worried me, it was almost apologetic. I think that was Ryan's way of saying sorry before I knew what he was sorry for. Before I thought he had anything to be sorry about in the first place. I had already started the habit of putting the knowledge of the world in Ryan's eyes, even now I still think he knows everything, but in that moment I think he felt the anticipation of the moment that would change my life. And I know he was sorry for what he was getting me into because he knew he couldn't turn back.

Without a word, he smiled in a comforting way in spite of the worry in his eyes, and opened the door to the house.

The inside of the house was so nicely furnished that I was convinced no one lived in it. It looked like something out of a magazine, too fancy and upscale to house anyone. I let my eyes roam, taking in the environment. The rooms were mostly white along with most of the furniture in them, but there were earth tones sprinkled with out. Blacks, browns, a few greens and golds, and the lighting was warm enough to make the place inviting. Still, there was no sign that anyone actively lived in the place.

"Do you guys live here?" I allowed my mouth to ask. Ryan beckoned for me to follow him so I did.

"He does. I stay with him most weekends though." He smiled over at me while we walked.

"It's so clean, it doesn't look like-"

"-Anyone lives here." He finished for me, laughing softly as he did. "Trust me, I know. He has a maid. Or so he says. I've never seen her, but apparently she exists. She must because I don't believe he could keep this place spotless on his own." A look appeared on his face that told me he knew his boyfriend well.

We approached a closed door and Ryan knocked lightly, leaning close to listen to what was on the other side.

"Brendon?" He asked, anticipation in his voice. No one answered, but the door opened to reveal someone quite taller than myself. His features were just as welcoming as Ryan's, though a pair of glasses sat on his face that, despite them being big, only made him look younger. He couldn't have been much older than Ryan and me and I wondered how he had gotten into this business himself.

"Come in! Sit down." He said happily, stepping back to let me into the room. I took the time to look around the small office at the desk and bookcases behind it before sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk. I heard a faint 'Good boy.' behind me, directed at Ryan, accompanied with a 'Sit.' (that sounded more like an order than an invitation) before Ryan entered my field of view and sat in a chair against the wall. A part of my mind started to questioned why he was being so obedient, but I didn't have much time to process the thought before Brendon walked around me and perched himself on his desk, pulling my attention away. "So, what did you come looking for?" He asked, a polite smile on his face.

It struck me how weird it was to ask someone for drugs so directly, especially in what seemed like such a formal setting. A thought planted itself at the back of my head that they could have the place bugged and again my paranoia of getting kicked out of school made my heart start to race. I kept my mouth shut and averted my eyes.

"What's your name?" He asked, probably realizing that his first question had made me uncomfortable. I was so lost in my thoughts that his question registered a few seconds too late and Ryan had begun to answer for me.

"Fra-"

"I didn't ask you." Brendon deadpanned, without bothering to turn and look at his boyfriend. The blatant rudeness he exhibited took me aback and I lifted my eyes to look at Ryan. He was staring down at his lap, his cheeks stained pink with embarrassment.

"Sorry," Ryan mumbled. Suddenly, a sense of protection overcame me, though I knew I could do nothing about it. I bit my lip in my effort to keep my mouth shut. I looked back up at Brendon and he raised his eyebrows, prompting my answer.

"Frank." I said, surprised at how firm my voice sounded.

"Frank," He repeated back to me with a smile on his face. Though I still preferred when Ryan said it, I liked the way Brendon said it too. Maybe I just had a thing for people saying my name. He picked a snow globe up from his desk and turned it over, watching the white flurries fall through the water inside. "You came here for heroin?"

Panic struck through me at the mention of the drug and I shook my head, alarmed. The things I'd heard about heroin had made me more than reluctant to try it. I had put it on the list of drugs I promised myself I'd never do. It was a short list, but it existed nonetheless.

"No, no!"

Brendon's eyes met mine and he shook the snow globe again as he laughed.

"Meth?" He guessed and I shot him down yet again. His amusement only grew, along with my confusion. He had a strange sense of humor that I didn't understand at all. I wondered then if Ryan did. My eyes flickered over to him but he was looking at Brendon with an unreadable expression. "You like playing guessing games, Frank?" Brendon asked and I turned back to him.

"I, um, no, but-" I stopped myself, taking a breath before I continued. I didn't think I'd ever stuttered that badly in my life. "No, it's just... This is kind of new to me I don't really-"

"Brendon!" I was cut off then by a singsong voice that echoed from outside the office. Brendon immediately whipped around to look at Ryan, who in turn stiffened in his chair. They made eye contact and had an entire conversation without uttering a single word. Brendon's eyebrows knitted together in a question, Ryan shook his head quickly. The room fell so silent that it seemed both of them were trying not to breathe. Curiosity filled me to the brim, but I didn't dare speak. Ryan stared harshly at the door, anticipating the inevitability of its opening.

There was a second. One second after my brain processed the fear that was tangible in the room, practically emitting from the other two men. One second before the door slammed open and hit the wall. In that second, something in my subconscious set off. I wasn't sure what it was, but the best way I can describe it is that I knew somehow that that was the very last second in which my life was normal. The last second before the beginning of my fall. It was that feeling that you get when the roller coaster you're on reaches the top of the track and stops and you only have a fleeting moment in which to cherish the stillness of the world before being dropped from a grand height.

And then the door opened.

"Mr. Urie!" The cheerful voice from the hall was much clearer now that it wasn't muffled by the door. Brendon looked up at whoever was standing behind me and the blood ran from his face, leaving him pale as a ghost. Ryan, on the other hand, sunk back into his chair as if he were trying to make himself invisible.

"Gerard," He stammered out, not bothering to try and hide his fear. I couldn't imagine what they were afraid of, the voice sounded nice enough. Then again, I was too terrified to turn around and look at the man behind me. "You didn't call, I wasn't expecting you." Brendon tried to smile and straighten up from his spot on the desk. His hand gripped the snow globe so tightly I thought he might break it.

"Call? I didn't call?" Gerard said mockingly and I could hear the smile in his voice. It wasn't a warm smile like I was used to hearing in Ryan's, instead it was laced with malice and an underlying rage.

"Well, yeah, I assumed-"

"You should never assume anything with me, Bren. You should know that."

I saw Ryan flinch at the nickname but he remained silent.

"Why are you here?" Brendon asked, choosing to ignore the comment. Gerard made some noise that denoted his disappointment before he spoke.

"I didn't peg you for being this simple."

His footsteps on the marble floor came closer before I felt him right behind me. Then I felt a hand in my hair, fingertips gently running through it. It sent a chill down my spine and I nearly melted into the touch. I had hoped, if anything, that I could remain an innocent bystander, but the second his hand went to my head, my heart was tugged towards his. My brain tried to stay indifferent.

"You don't mind that I'm interrupting, do you?"

I was so wrapped up in his touch that it took me a few seconds to realize he was talking to me.

"N-No. I don't mind." I whispered, hoping I wouldn't have to repeat myself. He patted my head softly as confirmation that he'd heard me before taking his hand from my hair. I almost whimpered at the loss but stopped myself. Again, my loneliness was put in perspective. I didn't remember the last time someone touched me.

"So, Brendon. Ryan," The smile was still evident in his voice. I still hadn't turned to look at him. "Don't think I didn't notice you over there."

Ryan sunk further into his seat and averted his eyes, turning almost completely away from Gerard.

"A little birdie told me that you were planning to steal my heist. Is that correct?"

"Which little birdie?" Brendon countered, gaining his confidence back.

"You more than anyone should know that I don't give names. You're lucky for that. I don't snitch on the snitches."

"But you do give them stitches." He laughed bitterly and ran a hand through his hair. Something about the tone of his voice and the anger emitting from Ryan's side of the room told me there was a backstory there. I made a mental note to ask later.

"I take care of my business. Stop dancing around the subject and answer me." Gerard put a hand on my chair and leaned against it. I craved his touch but I kept my mouth shut.

"I wasn't going to steal your heist, Gee. Okay? I mean, there was talk about asking to join you, but nothing about stealing it, I swear."

Gerard then moved swiftly and launched himself towards Brendon, pushing him against the desk and taking his shirt in his hands. In the commotion, Brendon dropped his snow globe and it shattered on the floor, spilling water and fake snow onto the marble. The small sun and moon figurines inside stayed in place, their painted smiles left untainted. I heard Ryan inhale sharply from beside me.

"Do you know what you are, Brendon?" Gerard asked, inches from the other man's face. I could still only see the back of him and couldn't help but rake my eyes over him. The sleeves of the white dress shirt he was wearing were rolled up to the elbows, showing off his forearms nicely. He wore a waistcoat over it and black jeans that accentuated his thighs and... I stopped myself before the thought could even reach the front of my mind. Regardless, my cheeks flushed red.

"W-What I am? What- What am I?" Brendon stammered, clearly losing his hold on his bearings.

"You are a drug dealer! You are a lowly drug dealer, Urie!" Gerard exclaimed, his voice fueled by a fire of rage. "You don't have the manpower, let alone the skill, to pull off a heist this big. Even I haven't pulled off a heist this big yet. If I haven't done it, you certainly will not. If you so much as think about taking this from me, I will give you the best God damn blowjob you've ever had, and right before you cum, I will cut your fucking balls off and nail them to my front door. Do you understand?"

Brendon nodded furiously, his words taken from him. I could see tears brimming his eyes and he blinked them away quickly. I wanted to look at Ryan but I couldn't tear my eyes from Gerard. He let go of Brendon's shirt and stepped away from him before smoothing out his waistcoat.

"You're not in." He said simply, as if he'd just made a very professional business deal. Brendon just nodded again and fixed his shirt. Gerard's hands went up to his neck and I assumed he was fixing a tie. I mentally begged him to turn around and he must've heard me because he did.

His eyes met mine immediately, like he knew I was staring at him. Green and brown mixed to make hazel, a shade that I could only describe as my entire universe within the soul of another person. Every beautiful thing in the world was reflected back to me and multiplied by an infinitely big number right in his eyes. I knew then that I would never see something or someone that could hold a candle to his beauty. From the way his nose turned upwards, to his cheekbones that stood out from the roundness of his face, or his eyelashes that framed his eyes so divinely, I was in love. That was the moment that I fell, and I knew I'd never get back up.


	4. Yearning

Much to my disappointment, Gerard didn't utter another word to me. He just flashed me a polite, yet mesmerizing smile, and turned on his heel to leave. His black, pointed dress shoes clicked on the marble as he walked away and they faded down the hall. Once the front door opened and shut, Ryan was the first to jump to action.

He pushed himself forward from the chair he'd practically melted into, and bent down to attend to the broken snow globe on the floor.

"You dropped it." He said and I could hear the distress in his voice. He picked it up and held it close, looking at it with tears brimming his eyes. The surge of protection over him I'd felt earlier emerged again, yet I couldn't bring myself to speak or move. My mind was still reeling on Gerard.

"Ryan," Brendon extended a hand and placed it on his boyfriend's shoulder gently. "I'm sorry, he-"

"No, no. No." Ryan shook his head and immediately wiped the tears that fell from his eyes. "It's not your fault, I know. It's his." He spat the last two words with such a venom that I questioned whether or not he was really referring to Gerard. I mean, yeah, he had pushed Brendon into the desk and made a very morbid threat, but I didn't think that constituted for such hatred.

"I tried to tell you. You should've listened to me." Ryan said, more upset than angry. Brendon nodded though Ryan wasn't looking at him and squeezed his shoulder. His eyes looked back up to mine and he smiled. I took it that he didn't want to discuss what happened in front of me. I would later try to get information from Ryan, but I knew that that wasn't the time.

"How much money you got, kid?"

It took me a second to react, but when I did I quickly took the cash from my pocket and offered it to him. He reached out, took it, and counted the crumpled up bills before reaching back into his desk and grabbing something to hand back to me. I let him slide it into my hand without looking at it, but I could feel the small plastic bag and the powder inside it. The prospect of what I had just done sent my heart into a panic and I shoved the small bag into my pocket, hiding it. I wasn't sure why I suddenly felt so suspicious, especially around the people who gave me the damn stuff, but I hadn't yet adjusted to being anything but innocent.

"Sorry I gave you a hard time, dude. I was just teasing you since you're new. No hard feelings?" He offered, shrugging a little with a small smile on his face. I couldn't find my voice so I just nodded and smiled back.

"You gonna take him home, Ry?" Brendon asked. Ryan flinched from his spot on the floor and nodded, wiping more tears from his face. "I'll take care of that, okay? Just focus on getting Frankie home." My heart warmed at the nickname.

Ryan stood and handed the broken snow globe to the older man.

"Fix it." He said, his voice soft.

"I will."

 

When we got in the car, Ryan slammed his door shut and gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. He stared down at his lap, his eyebrows furrowed. For a moment, I was convinced he was furious at me. It was so uncharacteristic for Ryan to be this mad and I thought I had done something wrong.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, finally able to speak. I still felt distracted, but at least I could manage a sentence.

Ryan looked over at me, his face immediately falling into concern and confusion. Maybe he was even a little shocked.

"What?"

"I'm sorry." I repeated, just as confused as him. He smiled and shook his head, laughing lightly.

"Why, Frank?" The question set me back a few seconds when I realized I didn't know exactly what it was I was apologizing for.

"Well, I don't know. You're mad, I thought I did something. I mean, I kind of made you bring me here anyway." I shrugged a shoulder, trying to come up with a logical reason to place blame on myself.

"No, it's not your fault at all, Frank. Don't blame yourself for anything. Actually, I'm kinda glad things turned out the way they did. If we hadn't talked Friday or if you'd changed your mind, we wouldn't have been there for it."

"Are you saying you'd rather have witnessed it?"

"I'm saying I'm glad _you_ were there to." He was trying to mask the fear in his eyes but some leaked out and I saw it. He shook his head like he realized he'd said too much. "Anyway, I'm supposed to be getting you home. I'm assuming you haven't finished that paper we have due for class tomorrow and you need to get it done." My cheeks flushed red at the fact that he'd guessed correctly yet again.

"Can I, um, can I ask one more thing?"

"You just did." He put the key in the ignition. I rolled my eyes. He laughed shortly. "Sure."

"Why, uh," Again, I was struck at how inappropriate my question was. It was then that I realized how incredibly nosy I was. I blushed harder, my face probably as red as a strawberry. "Why did Brendon- Why-" I groaned at my inability to ask the question and my eyes flickered to Ryan, willing him to guess what I wanted to ask. He'd done it so many times before, if only he could've done it then. All I got back was an amused yet confused look from him.

"Why did he what?"

"Why was he so rude to you when we got there? He told you what do you and you just listened," I spat the words out quickly, forcing them out of my mouth. The memory of Ryan sitting when Brendon ordered him to pushed itself back into my mind, along with his chastising of his boyfriend. Almost immediately, I saw Ryan's face start to redden and he averted his eyes. "I mean, I'm not saying you should've been rude back but-"

"Frank-"

"But he shouldn't get to just be so blatantly rude. I admit, I kinda wanted to punch him in the face-"

"Frank!" Ryan's smile was evident in his voice and he laughed awkwardly. It reminded me of when girls tell their friend's crush that they like them. The embarrassment was obvious but I couldn't imagine why.

"What? I'm just saying, I'm sorry if that's insensitive-"

"No! No, no, no." He buried his face in his hands, which were also red. "We, uh, we don't usually do that in front of people." He admitted, his voice slightly muffled from behind his hands.

Oh?  _Oh_.

"Oh! You-" He nodded furiously, cutting me off. I cleared my throat and sat back in my seat. "Like, BDSM?" I didn't know much about the subject, just enough to fit pieces together.

"Yes, Frankie, yeah." He said quickly, seemingly eager to get me to shut up.

"I'm sorry." I found myself saying for the third time. I laughed apologetically and ran a hand through my hair. Flashes of Gerard's fingertips went through my mind, the feeling of his hand in my hair reliving itself. Suddenly it felt a whole lot hotter in the car and I was eager to get back to the confines of my room.

"It's fine I just- I'll have to tell him to be more careful around people." Ryan took his hands from his face and turned to me. He smiled and snorted a laugh. "Am I as red as you are right now?"

In fact, his face was still very pink and I assumed mine was too.

"Yeah, you look like cotton candy." I laughed and wrapped my arms around myself.

"Well you look like a tomato." He shot back, a bright smile still plastered on his face. 

* * *

 

We drove the whole way to campus in a comfortable silence, though I could sense Ryan becoming more and more stressed. Every time I looked over to him, his eyes were trained harshly on the road and I could practically see the cogs turning in his head. He was thinking about something and I almost asked him about it multiple times but managed to stop myself. Despite our lighthearted conversations and his willingness to answer all my stupid, nosy questions, I didn't feel like he would've been so open to sharing his thoughts with me. I knew that if I asked, and if he chose to answer, he would need to do a lot of explaining. He would need to tell me about the drug business and in turn, his and Brendon's past with Gerard. I knew, even then, that there had to be some sort of past. I didn't have near enough information to piece anything together, but I tried to collect what I knew anyway.

First of all, both Brendon and Ryan seemed really scared of Gerard before he even made any threats. In fact, they were both scared before Gerard had so much as entered the room. I couldn't account for the nonverbal conversation they had before the door opened, but I knew that it had happened. Ryan looked fearful yet apologetic. Brendon looked confused and also scared out of his mind. So, I concluded, despite Brendon saying he wasn't expecting Gerard, he must've at least been aware of the possibility of the visit. Ryan's statement only further proved my point. 'You should've listened to me.' 'I tried to tell you.' Tell him what?

"Frank." My train of thought was brought to a grinding halt when Ryan called my name. I turned to him. We sat looking at each other for a few seconds before he raised his eyebrows and averted his eyes to look out the windshield, then back to me. I followed his gaze to realize that we were parked in front of my dorm. Disappointment sunk inside of me. I didn't want to leave him just yet.

"Oh." I didn't move to get out. "Can I ask something about Gerard?" My mouth asked on its own.

"No."

My shoulders dropped and I looked at him, shocked that he had turned me down.

"No?"

"No. I don't want to talk about that man."

"But, Ryan-"

"Get out of the car, Frank." His hands tightened around the steering wheel once again. There wasn't malice in his voice, he just sounded tired and a bit disappointed.

I felt rejection burn like acid in my stomach and I thought I might be sick inside the car. To spare myself from the humiliation of vomiting inside the car of my only friend, I unbuckled my seat belt and climbed out. He didn't say another word, he just drove away.

Ryan didn't talk to me again for the rest of the week.

 


	5. Days of the Week

Needless to say, the rest of the week was pretty boring. Besides a brief altercation on Wednesday, Ryan effectively ignored my existence for the whole of the school week. Also needless to say, it made me question our friendship. Or, at least, what I thought was our friendship. I had a hard time figuring out if we were still friends at that point in time. I doubted everything that happened over the weekend. If it weren't for the small (un-snorted) bag of cocaine still sitting in my jacket pocket, I'd have thought I imagined the whole thing.

Despite the fact that my week was boring, that did not make it like all the other weeks of my life leading up to that one. It was boring, but in a much more urgent way. It was a long week that dragged on, sure, but there was a lot more crying and masturbating thrown in. During that week, I had a lot to cry about. I wasn't usually one to cry (though that would quickly change) and breaking down and crying for three days in a row, starting Wednesday, was a big deal for me. I also rarely ever felt the need to touch myself (that already changed) but after having briefly met Gerard that Sunday I felt the need grow (quite literally) between my legs far too often. I was certain I'd jerked myself off so many times that week that I'd lost feeling in my dick.

Back to the issue at hand, Ryan and I fought on Wednesday. Maybe "fought" is a bit of a stretch. It wasn't fighting, it was Ryan yelling at me in the middle of the hallway while I stood there looking like a scared puppy, blinking away tears while everyone stared at me. Apparently it was true what Ryan had said about me being a mystery to everyone. I had shown such little interest or emotion that I had accidentally given off an "I'm too cool for this" vibe that led to everyone thinking I was some bad boy. So, by standing in the middle of the hallway and getting my ass served to me by Ryan Ross while I cried, I shattered my accidental "cool guy" reputation. It wasn't that I particularly cared about the loss of it, but the fact that everyone now thought I was a pussy was a bit disheartening to say the least. Then again, maybe they were right.

I wasn't exactly sure what I had done wrong though. I didn't understand why Ryan had lashed out at me. I played the situation over again in my head for what had to be the millionth time.

"Ryan, wait." I pushed my way past other students, trying to catch up with him. As much as I hate to admit it, Ryan is very good at ignoring people. He hadn't looked at me a single time during the lesson that day or any other day that week. It was like he'd forgotten everything that had happened over the weekend. I knew for a fact he hadn't glanced my way once because I stared at him the entire lesson. If my eyes could've burned holes in his head, they would've. I sat and stared at him for an hour, and unless he has super speed and can manage to look at me only when I blink, his eyes did not stray from the front of the room. "Ryan," I reached out to grab his wrist, and that's when he finally turned around, pulling it from my grasp.

"What do you want, Frank?" He asked, an uncharacteristic anger in his voice, and looked down at me. I hadn't realized just how much taller he was than me.

"Why won't you talk to me? What did I do wrong?" I could already feel myself going into a panic. I could feel people's eyes on us.

"Why do you always think you've done something wrong?" His eyebrows furrowed together and there was rage in his eyes. Even then, even when I had stood in front of him, the object of his attention, I didn't think I was the source for that rage. Still, that didn't explain why he was ignoring me.

"Why would you be ignoring me if I hadn't?" I asked. "Is this because I asked about Ger-"

"Shut up!" He yelled, and I flinched back. His stature loomed over me. His fists were clutched so tightly by his sides I thought for sure he'd punch me if I said another word.   
"Just shut up, Frank! Do you ever know when to keep your mouth shut? Do you ever think about anything before you say it? Have you ever thought that people might not want to pour out their every feeling to you or that maybe, just maybe, they don't want to tell you their life story? What, I talked to you twice and you automatically think we're best friends? I don't know you, you're not my friend, and you're not entitled to my attention somehow. So just leave me the hell alone, okay?" Ryan turned then and stomped off down the hallway, leaving me a complete mess.

I had stared after him for so long that the crowd thinned and went to their classes. I think I stood in that spot for a good half hour, letting tears fall freely from my face, trying to figure out what the fuck I had done to deserve that.

Eventually, of course, I went back to my dorm. I stayed there for the rest of the day, laying in bed and pitying myself. My only friend wasn't my only friend after all. In fact, I didn't have an only friend because I didn't have any friends. I thought about all the people I knew then, and our relationship status, trying to see if that statement were true. Did I really have no friends?

Ryan Ross was apparently not my friend. I wasn't sure we were enemies and my mouth got a sickly sour taste at the prospect of it. If I could've had anyone on this Earth be my friend, it would've been Ryan. I had fallen in love with the boy on my third day of knowing him. His eyes were warm and friendly, his smile was welcoming and comforting, and he always knew what I was thinking. Though my favorite thing about him, even to this day, is that he greeted me with my name. He always sounded so happy to see me or hear my voice. Ryan always made me feel cherished and loved. Ryan knew me more than anyone at that school did. Ryan knew me better than I knew him, and in that moment, I wished that he were my best friend. But he wasn't.

 Next, I knew Brendon. But, Brendon was Ryan's boyfriend and if Ryan didn't like me, then surely he'd side with him. Brendon was also my drug dealer and I wasn't sure you could be friends with your drug dealers.

I knew various professors and administrators around the college and sure, some of them were kind to me, but they definitely were not my friends. In fact, it would probably be more pathetic if the secretaries were my only friends than if I had no friends at all.

I knew one girl who dyed her hair a lot. Hayley, I believe it was. She'd tried to talk to me during the first week and I'd been lively enough then to compliment her on her hair. We got off quite well and even went out to get coffee once. She had been friendly enough, but I had shut her out after I fell into my depression and she wasn't bold enough to try and crack me. I didn't blame her for it, but we didn't talk anymore. She wasn't my friend.

I knew the kid who sat next to me in one of my classes had the last name Weekes. I knew the kid who sat on my other side had the last name Fuentes. I couldn't remember their first names though, and I'd only ever talked to them to ask for paper or pencils. They were not my friends.

Lastly, I knew Gerard. I had said a total of one sentence to him. He had said a total of one sentence to me. He had touched me as many times as Ryan had. Ryan and I had only touched that one time in the hallway when he pulled away from me. So no, _I_ had touched _him_. Ryan had touched me zero times. Gerard had touched me a total of one time. I had only seen him once, and a majority of that time was spent staring at his backside. I knew almost nothing about him other than that he dressed nicely, had black, messy hair, hazel eyes that could kill a man, and that he was some type of criminal. And, of course, his name. Yet, I had touched myself while thinking about him a total of 27 times that week. Which averaged around 5 times a day. I was probably going insane with lust.

So, when Saturday finally hit, I tried to make a pact with myself to not masturbate once that day. And I was doing a pretty damn good job keeping my hands out of my pants and off of myself until I accidentally ran a hand through my hair. At this point, I had already figured out that whenever I touched my hair it reminded me of him and I had the habit of pushing my hair out of my face anyway. So, I was not at all surprised when my body reacted so strongly. I sighed, resigned to the fact that number 28 was coming up (pun not intended). Heat pooled into my stomach and I knew I'd have to take care of it soon, otherwise it would just cause me pain.

However, an angel must've been sent to save me from the shame of having jerked off to the thought of the same person 28 times, because a knock sounded on the door before I could kick my boxers off. I pulled my sweatpants back on and walked to the door to open it. Before I could look up to see who it was, I was enveloped in a warm, too-tight hug. I froze, not sure what to do.

"I'm so sorry, Frankie." Ryan's voice floated to my ears, warm and apologetic, and I was sure then that it _was_ in fact an angel sent to my door. I wrapped my arms around him, returning the hug and pulling his thin frame against mine. "I didn't mean any of that stuff I said. I'm sorry." He pulled back to look at me and tears brimmed at his eyes.

"Ryan," I started but then stopped and bit my lip before stepping back and allowing him to enter the room. I shut the door then and turned to him. "You really hurt me." I admitted, maybe even a little to myself.

"I know. I know, Frankie, and I'm sorry. Like I said, I didn't mean it." He looked genuine and I couldn't help but believe him.

"Why did you say it then?" I questioned, still very confused.

"I..." He sighed and then looked around. "Is your roommate here?"

"No, he's out."

"Will he be back soon?"

"Probably not. He stays out a lot. I think it's to avoid me." I shrugged a shoulder. It was true, he had spent even more time out of the dorm that week than he usually did. I could definitely account it to the fact that more than a few times I'd stopped caring to be quiet during either masturbating or crying sessions. I couldn't say I blamed him for not wanting to be around me.

"Okay, good." He took my wrist and pulled me into my room. At first, confusion ran through my mind. Though it was immediately washed out by shame when Ryan halted to look around the small space. "Jesus Christ, Frank." He said, sounding more shocked than anything.

Tissues littered the floor and my bed, empty food containers and soda cans sat on my desk, and dirty laundry created a blanket on the floor. It was, to put it lightly, a depressing sight.

"It wasn't a good week." I mumbled, rubbing my neck sheepishly. Without a word, Ryan moved and started to pick up the laundry and throw it into the hamper I had next to my desk. "What are you doing?"

"You can't live in this mess, Frank. It doesn't help your mental state." He replied, the floor already halfway cleared.

"Then let me do it." I moved to help him but he turned and pushed me back gently to sit on my bed.

"No, sit. I was a horrible friend to you all week, I had to have been a contributing factor to you letting your room get so out of hand. So, really, in essence, it's my mess to clean up." He was right, it kind of was his fault, but I still hated to sit by and watch as he cleaned my room. Regardless, he wouldn't let me move from the bed so I didn't have much choice. My heart warmed at the gesture in spite of my urge to help.

"Ryan?"

He turned around to glance at me and raised his eyebrows.

"Are we friends?" I asked, having noticed that he called himself a 'horrible friend'.

Ryan turned more fully to look at me and he smiled warmly like he always did.

"Of course we are, Frank." He shoved the last bit of clothes into my hamper before turning to walk out of the room. He returned a few seconds later with a plastic bag that I assumed he had gotten from underneath the kitchen sink. "Are these tissues filled with tears or cum?" He asked, a glint of mischievousness in his eyes.

"Honestly, both." I smiled sheepishly and blushed, allowing myself to sink deeper into my bed. Ryan laughed and shook his head, beginning to shove the tissues into the bag anyway.

He bustled around the room, cleaning away. He only allowed me to get off the bed for five minutes while he made it and then shoved me back onto it. The plates and cans were removed from the desk and Ryan stayed out of the room for a good ten minutes. I could hear the kitchen sink running and later I'd discover that he'd washed the dishes. I had to admit, it was very sweet and I didn't think I deserved it.

Ryan returned to the room a bit later with two mugs filled with tea, and handed one to me. Somehow, he'd picked my favorite kind among all the others. Ryan Ross could read my mind, I was sure of it.

So, at last, he sat down across from me on my bed, cross legged, peering over his mug at me. We sat in a comfortable silence, the only sound in the room coming from us sipping our drinks. Eventually, Ryan lowered the mug from his face and looked at me, smiling. I took it as an invitation to initiate conversation.

"Do you always clean your friends rooms?" I asked, teasingly. He laughed and shook his head.

"No, I just felt like saying sorry wasn't enough." He shrugged a shoulder casually.

"I have to admit, though. You're very good at cleaning. You should go to college for it and become a maid." I joked and we laughed together. It felt nice to joke around again. It was a relief to get back to the way things were before we fought. The room filled with the warmth of our rekindled friendship and I couldn't have been happier.

"You're dumb." Ryan shook his head again, a grin gracing his face.

"You know, I bet Brendon's shoved you into a maid's uniform before. Made you clean his room while he watched."

His face reddened and he hung his head, giggling furiously.

"How did you know?" He looked back up to me. The smile on his face told me he wasn't kidding. My eyes widened, shocked that I had gotten it right.

"Are you- Did you really?"

He nodded quickly and laughed.

"Ooooh, you liked it, didn't you?" I teased again.

"Yeah, a little." He shrugged again and looked away, his face pink. "Anyway, I didn't come here to talk about mine and Brendon's kinks."

"Aw, what a disappointment." I pouted playfully.

He rolled his eyes. I could already tell that the lighthearted atmosphere would melt away as soon as he brought up what he wanted to talk about. 

"What did you come to talk about?" I asked, pulling my legs up to my chest. Ryan sighed and placed his mug on my bedside table. He then leaned back onto his hands and looked back up at me, the tone of the conversation already different. My heart ached already, nerves setting in.

"I figured you deserved an explanation."

I waited for him to continue, but he didn't.

"An explanation for what?" I prompted. I wasn't sure which thing he was talking about.

"For a lot of things, Frankie." Again, he didn't explain what he meant. I just sat there, a confused look on my face until he laughed lightly. "You're always full of questions, where did they all run off to?

"I thought you didn't want to answer my questions." I admitted, averting my gaze to my mug.

"I didn't. But I changed my mind. You're my friend, Frank. You already know what I do and what Brendon does. You already met Ge- _him_." Upon hearing him skip over Gerard's name, my ears perked up and I looked back up at him. "But despite that, you're still pretty much in the dark about a lot. I figured that if you already know that much, it's useless to keep you clueless about the rest. Especially after Wednesday." The look on his face was serious and the intensity of the conversation weighed on me.

"Wednesday? When you yelled at me?"

He nodded and sighed again.

"I- I started yelling at you to shut you up. I know it was wrong, I shouldn't have been so mean, but I just- I needed you to stop talking."

My frustration only increased when he once again didn't go into detail about _why_. It must've shown on my face because he laughed under his breath and smiled.

"You can ask as many questions as you want now, Frank. It's okay, I won't get mad and I'll answer all of them this time." He reassured me and I let out a sigh of relief. My questions had started multiplying and I wasn't sure I could contain them much longer.

"Why did you need to shut me up?" I started.

"Because you were about to talk about him. You can't say his name. Not around a bunch of people."

"Gerard?" I asked, my confusion only growing. Ryan nodded in confirmation. "What is he, Voldemort?"

"No," Ryan snorted a laughed and shook his head. "It's just that he's very..." He trailed off, looking for words. "He's weird about who knows him and how many people do. He just prefers to not have many people aware of his existence or who he associates with. It's weird, but everyone who knows him knows that. If you'd made everyone in that hallway aware of the fact that you've associated with him, you'd be feeling it for weeks."

I took this information and knocked it around in my head. I couldn't make sense of it.

"Why?"

"I don't know. I think it lessens the amount of collateral he has to deal with or something." Yet again, I was stumped at his answer.

"You said you'd answer my questions but your answers don't make any sense." I said, probably sounding like a frustrated child. Ryan laughed softly again, clearly amused. "What happened between you and him?"

"Me and Gerard?" He asked for clarification, tilting his head when he looked at me. It was adorable and my heart quickened at the sight.

"You, Brendon, and Gerard." I think he was satisfied that I referred to him and Brendon as 'you'. One person, one unit.

"It's a long story." He said with the wisdom of someone much older than himself.

"I want to hear it." I extended my legs in front of me, stretching out.

"I did say I'd tell you everything." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"You did." I agreed, nodding.

"Well," He moved and crawled to sit next to me. The bed sunk inwards and our thighs pressed together, our body heat rose together and I immediately felt comforted by it. "It happened to Brendon. We hadn't met yet, it happened a year prior to us getting together. It took awhile to get the story out of him, but I managed to do it in bits and pieces. As it goes, Brendon had been in the business for awhile. He wasn't well known or anything yet, he didn't have a reputation. His business was small, but he was good at running it and he was doing well. Eventually though, he met Gerard." He took in a deep breath and held it for a second, trying to gather his bearings. I could tell he was already getting mad. "Gerard must've liked that Brendon was new. He was drawn to the type of businessman Brendon was and his innocence and lack of experience. So, Brendon, not knowing any better, joined Gerard and his gang."

"He has a gang?" I interrupted accidentally. Ryan laughed.

"Not literally, no. They're not a gang. God, it wouldn't have been as bad if they were just a gang."

"So what are they?"

"They're a criminal organization." The puzzled look on my face must've prompted him to further explain what the term meant. "They don't do petty crimes like dealing drugs or robbing gas stations, Frank. They do much worse than that. They steal from government facilities. Some of them are assassins. Some of them are hackers. They're bad people, and Gerard is the head of it all. He's their leader. And Brendon got wrapped up in it. He... He got taken by a rival group and they interrogated him for hours. They were trying to get information out of him about the heist Gerard was trying to execute. Whatever they did to him to get their information is beyond my imagination. I couldn't get Brendon to tell me what happened that night, what they did to him. He broke down too much, he locked himself inside his head. God, I'll never forgive myself for pushing him too much and making him relive it."

I didn't know what to say, so I just took Ryan's hand in my own. I held it in my lap and squeezed it gently and he reciprocated the gesture.

"Anyway, Brendon gave them the information they wanted. I'm convinced they would've killed him if he hadn't and he did it to save his own life. But," He laughed bitterly and took another breath, trying to calm himself. "Gerard wasn't happy about that. The other group attempted the heist and failed miserably. The facility they tried to rob went on high alert, some of their members got arrested, others were wanted and had warrants out for their arrest. Gerard was paranoid that one of them would rat his group out. He was pissed that they lost the heist, pissed that Brendon snitched to them."

"What did he do?" I practically whispered the question. I was terrified to hear the answer, but I needed to know. I didn't want to pin Gerard as the bad guy, I refused to believe he acted out without reason. I didn't want to blame Brendon, I knew he was the victim, but I didn't accept that Gerard could be anything but wonderful.

"He burned him. Badly. He has scars on most of his chest and left arm. It's pretty scary. It's not that I don't think he's beautiful, because I've never seen another person as beautiful as him. His scars are a part of him, and I love him wholly. But I can't help but get mad every time I see them. I wish I could've protected him. I just wish I could've done something, Frank. He's so wonderful, so sweet, he didn't deserve it."

I finally understood Ryan's resentment towards Gerard. He hated him because he hurt the man he loved. Gerard hadn't done anything to Ryan, but he had sent Brendon through Hell and back, and that was enough to call for his hatred. This also answered my question about why they were so scared of Gerard. He had made a reputation for himself and backed it up with his actions. Ryan's anger towards Gerard was completely justified and yet, I still couldn't find it within me to hate him too.

"I want to see him again." I said softly, more to myself than to Ryan. Ryan turned to look at me like I had grown a second head.

"Gerard? You want to  _see_ him? What, you mean like, talk to him?" He asked, bewildered. I nodded innocently. "After everything I just told you?" He subconsciously squeezed my hand harder.

"Yeah, he's... He's infatuating." I found myself saying, almost in a trance-like state.

"Frankie," Ryan said, concern laced into his voice rather than the anger I expected. He reached a hand up to my face and turned my head so I was looking at him. "That man is dangerous. We were lucky that he didn't hurt Brendon on Sunday-"

"And you said yourself you were glad I was there to witness it. Meaning you thought Gerard didn't act out because I was there. What reason would he have to hurt me?"

"You think he wouldn't hurt you?" Ryan took his hand from my face. His eyebrows pulled together and I didn't like the way his expression made me feel. "Frank, that's what he does. He hurts people. He hurt Brendon."

"I'm not Brendon." I said, my voice stronger than I expected it to be. Ryan scoffed, taken aback by the harshness of my voice. He took his hand out of mine and shifted away from me. "I'm not blaming him. I know he was the victim, I know he didn't deserve what happened to him. I'm not saying Gerard was in the right for what he did or that it was justified, but Ryan, I didn't do anything to him. I don't know him, I haven't talked to him, but I want to. I want to so bad."

"You just like him cause you think he's pretty." The disappointment in his voice was evident and he didn't try to cover it.

"Well, I don't know anything else about him." I mumbled, upset to even admit it. Ryan sat for a second without saying anything but eventually his eyes flickered to me and I could see that he'd gotten an idea. If a light bulb could've appeared over his head, it definitely would've.

"Fine." Ryan said simply. "You want to meet Gerard Way? You can meet him. I'll call him and we can go out and grab some coffee together."

This shocked me, to say the least. Had I heard him right? Would he really do that for me?

"You- You will? You mean that?"

"Yeah. You're right, you don't know anything else about him. You wanna know him so bad, you can get to know him. I'm going with you though."

I realized that Ryan assumed that if I got to know Gerard I'd hate him. That was the only reason he was allowing it to happen. I knew Ryan was gunning for me to not like Gerard and I think that only made me want to like him more. I wanted to like Gerard, Hell, I wanted to love him. I wanted to grab onto him and not let him go, even if it were just to prove Ryan wrong.

I hate to think Ryan and I had a rivalry over this, but there was no denying it. Despite that we were friends, despite that I loved Ryan and knew he loved me too, we were dead set against each other on this issue. He wanted me to hate Gerard as much as he did. He thought Gerard was a horrible person and wanted me to think that too. I, on the other hand, wanted to give Gerard a chance because I believed he could redeem himself. I knew I was a different person than Brendon was. I wouldn't make the same mistake that he did. I wouldn't cross Gerard. I would give him my utmost respect, and in turn, he would never hurt me.

I think I knew in the back of my mind that Ryan didn't really want me to hate Gerard. That thought was at the forefront of my mind, of course, because my thoughts were so clouded by my yearning for the man I'd soon grow to know. But looking back, I know Ryan was trying to protect me. He didn't care if I hated Gerard as much as he did, he didn't care if I was mad at Gerard for what he did to Brendon. Ryan knew that that was his own problem and his own grudge he was holding and he never had the intention to shed that onto me. I would come to realize that much, much later. Much too late. But Ryan Ross only ever intended to protect me from a brutal reality he knew would inevitably would come. It was I who wouldn't allow him to.


	6. The National No Snitching Policy

 "I feel sick." I said, sliding down in my seat until I knew I wasn't visible to anyone outside the car.

"You wanted this." Ryan said, a smug smile on his face. I looked up to him and pouted.

"God, Ryan, don't make me go over there." My nerves had increased tenfold and filled my stomach with a nauseous feeling I wanted to cut out of myself. Before I crammed myself down into the car, I briefly spotted Gerard leaning against the side of the Starbucks smoking a cigarette. He had sunglasses resting on his face and he was wearing a black coat that made him look like he belonged in a magazine. "Is he looking over here?"

"No." He answered immediately.

"You didn't even look!"

"Look, Franklin-"

"That's not my name."

"Frank," He couldn't keep the amused smile off his face. "You were excited for this since Sunday and now he's standing a few feet away and you're gonna pussy out?"

"He's like, a crime lord."

"Yeah, I thought we established that. That did not sway you one bit."

"He's killed people?"

"Most likely, yes."

"Have you?"

"Jesus, Frank, no!"

"I was just checking."

"You know what," He unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car. I stared after him, confused, but then realized that he was walking around to my side. Panic set in and I shook my head when he opened the door. "I do not intend to waste my Wednesday afternoon sitting in a car with you." He reached forward and unbuckled me before hooking his arms under mine to start literally pulling me out.

"Ryan, no!" I fought to keep myself in the confines of the car, reaching out to take hold of anything that could keep me grounded there. Ryan placed his foot on the back door to give himself leverage, but I wouldn't give up.

"Well look at that," I heard a voice that didn't belong to Ryan and the blood drained from my face. I turned to look at who it was, despite already knowing. He stood there, arms crossed, with an amused smirk on his face. My heart melted at the sight. "There seems to only be three of us. Are we a congregation of people who respect the national no snitching policy?"

Ryan scoffed and rolled his eyes, I could already feel him getting mad. Wanting to defuse his anger, I quickly scrambled to get on my feet and fixed my shirt. Ryan took his foot from the car door and placed it on the ground, where it belonged.

"Gerard," I acknowledged him by his name, my voice a bit more impressed than I'd meant it to be.

Gerard tilted his head to the side and smiled more genuinely. I wished I could see his eyes.

"Well we came here to get coffee, not wrestle each other out of cars, right?" He turned to look at Ryan, who once again rolled his eyes.

" _I_ came here to make sure you don't hurt anyone." His eyebrows pulled together and he crossed his arms. Gerard subconsciously uncrossed his. They were exact opposites of each other. Ryan stood there looking like a very frustrated and impatient mother. Gerard, on the other hand, looked forgiving and amused, almost warm.

"I don't plan on it, Ry."

I thought it was impossible for Ryan to look any more tightly wound than he already did, but the combination of the nickname and Gerard turning on his heel to enter the coffee shop nearly made him implode. He turned to me and raised an eyebrow.

"Frank, I love you, but I don't know if I can do this. I've almost punched him about three times already."

"You love me?" I asked, taken aback by the sentiment. I realized that wasn't the point of his sentence, but it was the part that mattered to me.

"Yes, Frankie. You're my best friend. And I'm yours. And I know best friends are supposed to do things for each other, but this is so far out of the realm of possibility for me."

"Ryan, it'll be fine." I almost laughed at the fact that I was now the one reassuring him when a few moments ago he was physically pulling me out of his car. "You don't have to sit with us if you don't want to." I offered, trying anything to ease the stress for him. He sighed and rubbed his temples.

"You're lucky I care for you so much, Iero."

 

So that's how I found myself sitting across a table from criminal mastermind, Gerard Way.

He had taken his sunglasses off when I sat down across from him, but didn't say anything. His eyes were intense and scrutinizing when he looked at me. I vaguely wondered what he was thinking about, but I was mostly focused on his cheekbones and the way the light rose them even higher somehow. I also thought the tilt of his nose was wonderful and his eyelashes just happened to be extra dark that day.

"You wanted to meet me?" Gerard asked suddenly, jolting me out of my admiration of his face. I cleared my throat before I spoke, then looked up to him.

"Yeah," I nodded, not sure what else to say. I hadn't realized that my mind had blanked completely. What were words again?

"Why?" His lips quirked upward and he brought his coffee cup to his mouth.

"Why?" I repeated his question. He giggled a bit and shook his head slowly. My heart did back flips in my chest as if to remind me it was there.

"Yeah, why? I mean, knowing Ryan, I know he couldn't have had very many nice things to say about me." His eyes flickered to the side, then back to me, and I knew he was non-verbally asking if Ryan, who was sitting a few feet behind him, was looking at him.

"Oh, yeah, he's burning holes in the back of your head." I laughed lightly and he did too. I reveled in the fact that we laughed together. God, I don't think I'd ever been so smitten with someone before.

"That doesn't answer my question." He said, once the laughter died down. "What he said to me before he walked away kinda proves that point."

Ah, yes. Ryan had said something along the lines of, 'If you lay so much as a finger on him I will not hesitate to rip your dick off and staple it to your forehead'. Gerard had blushed and asked if he carried a stapler with him everywhere. Ryan fumed and walked away and that was the end of that.

"Well, yeah, he didn't exactly give you a five star review." I said and shrugged a shoulder. I thought that if I said it casually enough it would lighten the blow. Gerard, however, didn't really seem to care at all.

"Still avoiding the question, Frankie." He punctuated the sentence with a smirk and holy shit, if my heart could've burst through my chest and smacked him in the face, it would have.  _Frankie._ Jesus, I had to suppress a moan at the use of the nickname.

"I- I, uh, um," At some point, noises stopped even coming out of my mouth and I was just opening and closing it like a fish out of water. Gerard clearly found this amusing. He lolled his head to the side and looked me in the eyes, practically daring me to say something. "I just, I find you very... Intriguing." I finally admitted, finding a word that could come close to what I felt for him.

"Intriguing? Really?" His eyes almost lit up at the confession and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yeah. Yeah, I mean, that doesn't really come close to describing it, but maybe it gives you some idea of it." I added, gaining confidence.

"An idea of what?" The warm look on his face was so genuine that I wanted to high five myself for being the one to put it there.

"Of how you make me feel." I tested the water, sticking a hand in before deciding to submerge myself. The water must've been warm and inviting because the way he cocked an eyebrow at me pushed me into the deep end. "You make me feel... almost...  _drunk_. Intoxicated. My head gets all dizzy and I forget my vocabulary. I forget that my mother taught me that staring is rude because my eyes are attracted to your face like there's magnets in your head. Ever since that Sunday when I first saw you, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. Maybe that's weird, but it's true all the same."

Gerard did not seem angry or disgusted at this confession like I had predicted. In fact, his next question solidified that thought.

"Do you think about me when you touch yourself, Frank?" The gentle smile across his face was the exact opposite of the expression on mine. I felt the blood drain from my face immediately, followed by it racing back, turning me from a ghost to a tomato. I hung my head in shame, averting my eyes to my lap.

"Yes," I heard my mouth admit to him without my consent.

"How many times?" I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Thi- Thirty-two." Tears pricked at my eyes. I felt dirty even thinking about it, let alone telling him straight out. Why did he ask me that? Why did he know? Did he not fear that I'd yell at him or turn my nose up in disgust? Gerard Way was the most confident man I'd ever known. That did not lessen my burning attraction to him one bit. Quite the opposite, actually.

"Thirty-" Gerard let out a short, almost impressed, laugh. "Since two weeks ago?" I nodded my head, still avoiding his gaze. "What is that, two times a day?"

"Roughly," I looked back up to him, not bothering to wipe the tears from my cheeks. His smile dropped when he saw I was crying.

"Hey," His voice softened, his eyebrows pulled together in concern, and he reached a hand out to wipe them away. But before it could reach my face, another hand slapped it away.

"What's going on? Frank? Why are you crying, what did he say to you?" Ryan was by my side almost instantaneously, wiping my face with his shirt sleeve and cradling me to his chest. Despite not truly being upset, I pressed my face into him anyway and wrapped my arms around him. "What did you do to him?" Ryan asked accusingly, turning to Gerard. The amount of venom in his voice intimidated me and I thanked my lucky stars I wasn't on the receiving end of it.

Gerard pouted and looked to me, pleading for me to vouch for him. I could tell he knew Ryan wouldn't believe a single thing that came out of his mouth, no matter how sincere he could make it sound.

"Frank," Gerard said, softly. He played my heartstrings like a harp because I pulled myself from Ryan's grasp and dried my own eyes.

"It's okay, Ryan, really. He didn't do anything wrong, I'm just being silly."

"You're-  _Silly_ _?_ Really? You're crying, Frank." The urgency in his voice sounded completely unnecessary to my ears.

"Yes. I'm okay, I promise." I assured him, trying to sound as genuine as possible.

Ryan closed his eyes, took a deep breath, pinched the bridge of his nose, and let it out, trying to calm himself. I could tell he was really trying to keep calm and be rational for my sake and I found myself, yet again, silently thanking him. I smiled lovingly at him once he opened his eyes again.

"Fine. But if you shed one more tear, I'm dragging you out of this coffee shop and never driving you anywhere again." He huffed and turned to stalk back to his seat behind Gerard, without waiting for a reply.

I turned back to Gerard who, surprisingly, had a fond smile on his lips. I gave him a questioning look and he laughed softly.

"He's so protective of you. He's like a mother bear." The crooked smile on his face warmed my already overheated heart. "It's adorable."

"He's my best friend." I commented, glancing over his shoulder to look at Ryan. Of course, he was watching us with a fire in his eyes. He noticed that I was looking at him and he met my gaze before smiling warmly and mouthing the words 'I'm sorry'. I smiled back to let him know it was okay.

"I can tell." Then, much to my disappointment, Gerard's phone went off and he picked it up to look at it. A certain glint in his eyes told me whatever it was was good news. "That's work. I gotta go, Iero." He said my name fondly and I smiled at it in spite of my sinking heart.

"I'm gonna miss you." I said, without thinking about it. My cheeks reddened once again. Gerard looked up at me after he finished off his coffee.

"You don't have to." Upon my confused look, he gave clarification. "How's next Saturday for you?"

"That's so far away." I complained, my heart sinking even further.

"What can I say? I'm a busy man. The anticipation will make it all the better." He promised before walking around the table. He leaned down and brushed his nose against mine in the most adorable Eskimo kiss I've ever been a part of. I almost tilted my head to press my lips against his, but he straightened up before I could. Then he turned to leave, but before he could take a step, he stopped himself. "Oh, and Frank? Don't touch yourself until then, okay? And I'll know if you have so don't bother lying."

He left without waiting for a response.


	7. Is That So?

"I'm scared." I whispered so quietly I wasn't sure if he'd hear it. I wasn't even sure if I was saying it to him or myself.

"Hmm? Why's that?" He asked, his voice soft as he set the camcorder on the tripod. My blood pressure increased, my heart slammed against my rib cage. The temperature in the room escalated at such a rate that I was nearly surprised when the room didn't catch on fire the same way my skin did.

For the past nine days, I had been impatiently awaiting this visit. I had a vague prediction that something of this nature would happen due to multiple hints. I wasn't any type of detective, but it didn't take one to figure it out. Or maybe it did, because this specfic situation never once entered my mind. There was, however, a few guesses that had come close. Those guesses came from Ryan, not me, but I had shot him down every time. Ryan Ross, I'd already come to find out, knew everything. I don't know why I ever bothered to turn him down and not listen to him. In fact, I kind of regret not giving that to him because God knows he deserved it.

Back to the situation at hand, I knew something along these lines would take place. I knew because of the order Gerard had given me before he left the coffee shop. ' _Don't touch yourself until then_.' He didn't want me to masturbate for two damn weeks and my best guess was that he wanted me to be needy and desperate for release once we were reunited. If only I'd known just how right I was.

Upon him texting me and asking if it was okay for me to come over to his house for Saturday, Ryan's red warning flags went up. He made sure to let me know it too. The amount of cautionary tales Ryan spewed at me was enough to fill multiple books. He told me I'd be drugged, raped, killed, all three, or some other combination of them, so many times I thought my ears would fall off. In fact, I was kind of hoping they would at that point. (Just to be clear, this was _not_ the part Ryan was right about. I didn't get drugged, raped, or killed that night.) But despite Ryan's best efforts to keep me from walking into what he thought was my final undoing, I ended up smack dab in the center of Gerard Way's bed anyway.

"I've never done anything like this before." I admitted, pulling my legs up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. Gerard's eyes flickered up to meet mine.

"Is that so?" He asked, a warm smile on his face. I nodded, not sure if I could trust my voice. I think he could sense just how jittery I was because a sympathetic look came over his previously amused expression and he strode over to me. He sat down next to me on the bed and pressed a warm hand to my cheek. I took the opportunity to nuzzle into it. "You'll do great. I have faith in you. Even if it is your first time." The calmness of his voice did nothing to settle my nerves.

"Please tell me I don't have to do this."

"You don't." He complied with my request. "You don't have to, Frankie. But I'd like you to." Frankie. The way my name rolled off his tongue put me in the perfect mood to do what he was asking of me, but still, my anxiety over the situation wouldn't stop pestering me.

"Why are you making me do this?" My mouth asked it without my brain allowing it or even thinking of it. It even confused me a little because I had not thought that at all. Hadn't he just said I didn't have to? His face contorted with confusion and maybe even a little offense. I immediately felt guilty for having accused him of such things.

"Hey," Gerard leaned in closer to me, so close I could feel his breath. My brain started counting his eyelashes. One... two... three... "I don't want you to think I'm doing this  _to_ you. I'm doing this  _with_ you. We're doing this together."

"You're not gonna be with me though." I protested, my mind still reeling.

"Frank, do you understand why I'm doing this?" He asked. I shook my head slowly. "I'm doing this because I want to cherish you. I think you're beautiful. Your body is so damn beautiful, Frankie. You deserve to be worshiped. I want to treat you right. The way you deserve to be treated. I need to know what you like so I can help you. I want to see you unravel. I want to see you when you're at your most vulnerable. I want you to open yourself up to me, hand yourself to me, willingly. I don't want to take anything from you, I want to share it with you. I want to be able to document it so I can look back whenever I need to."

My body must've given up resistance to the situation after his third sentence because I finally felt blood rushing to an area that wasn't my face.

"Is anyone else gonna see it?" I asked, still a bit on edge.

"Is that what you're worried about?" That same amused smiled grew on his face again. I nodded my response, still preferring not to speak. "I swear, not another soul will see it but me. And you, if you so wish." He held up his little finger towards me. "Pinkie promise."

I weighed my options, considering if I really did want to go through with this. On one hand, it was very intimate and, in a way, taboo as hell. On the other, I couldn't stand the idea of it getting out to anyone. But he had just offered up a promise to me, and at the beginning of the month risk and adventure is exactly what I wanted, wasn't it? I linked my little finger with his.

"You know I'm serious, right?"

"About what?"

"If I break my promise, you can cut off my finger."

My eyes nearly popped out of my skull.

_"What?"_

"Ryan told you what I did to Brendon, didn't he?" My prominent erection faltered at the thought but I nodded anyway. "Then you know I'm a man that means business. I'm not apposed to violence as a means to keep people in check. That includes myself. I'd be a hell of a hypocrite if that weren't the case." He smiled warmly and I questioned if this was real life.

"You'd really let me cut off your finger? Willingly? You'd just sit there and let me do it?"

"Fuck yes. I never want to do you wrong, Frank. I never want to hurt you. If you're scared I'll show someone else then I won't. I want you to be confident in me and sure that I won't and if that means giving you permission to cut off my finger if I break my promise, I'd do it a million times over." His proclamation sealed the deal for me.

"Okay. Okay, I'll do it."

Gerard flashed a smile at me and moved to get up, but I took hold of his wrist before he could.

"It's, um, this is really intimate and I haven't, uh, exactly... been intimate at all with anyone in a long time so... Can you just... Get me started? I can do the rest myself, just," I trailed off, hoping I didn't have to explain any further.

Thankfully, I didn't, because he wordlessly leaned in to press his lips to mine in our very first kiss. It was strange that our first kiss happened under such pretenses and even stranger that it would be one of the only ones that ever felt real to me. If I had known this, I would've taken the time to revel in it. I would've taken it in, pressed my tongue further, and more passionately against his. I would've held his face to mine for all eternity if it meant getting to kiss him like that forever. If I'd have known nearly every kiss after that would seem halfhearted, artificial, and jaded, I would never have ended that one.

But of course, I did end it, all too soon. The reason being, he'd gently pushed my legs apart and swept his hand down my thigh until it reached the very obvious bulge in my jeans. My breath hitched and my lips broke away from his as he pressed his palm firmly against it, sending ripples of pleasure up my spine. He pushed me down, reattached our mouths, and let his hands creep slowly up my shirt. His warm hands ghosted along my skin, our body heat rising together. I had a fleeting thought of when Ryan and I were pressed against each other the night he told me about who Gerard was, but I quickly pushed it out, opting to pull the man in front of me impossibly closer.

Gerard must've taken my eagerness as a sign that I was ready, because he pulled away, lifting my shirt off with him. He tossed it to the side and went back to his spot behind the camcorder.

"Are you ready, Frankie?" I could almost hear the excitement in his voice and it added to the small bit of confidence that I had. It helped to know he wanted this, that he was confident in me. I looked at him from my spot on the bed, allowing my eyes to rake over him, taking in his image. He was wearing the same thing he always did, a waistcoat and white dress shirt. The sleeves were still rolled up to his elbows like before but this time I allowed it to turn me on the way it nearly did when I saw him for the first time. My eyes must've been so lust blown at that point, not that I could really tell because, thank God, there were no mirrors in the room. I nodded my response. "Okay, when I turn the camera on, I want you to state your name, age, and... say you love me." He added on like he'd just thought of it.

"You want me to say I love you?" I asked, a bit taken aback. It wasn't that I didn't, because I was confident that I did, but I realized that if I said it, I'd want him to say it back.

"It's good to have a reminder." Gerard smiled and shrugged a shoulder. This only confused me further.

"But I've never told you that I did. How could you know that I do?"

"The way you look at me gives it away. You're not very good at hiding your emotions, Frank." Again, I was disappointed at the fact. I was as transparent as Ryan had told me I was. I pushed the thought of Ryan out of my mind for the second time.

"You don't love me." I said, simply. "But you like that I love you."

"That's not true, Frankie. I love you very much. I wouldn't be doing this with you if I didn't. I don't do this with just anyone."

"Have you done this with anyone before?" I thought I could see him losing his patience with me, but he recollected himself so quickly I wasn't sure if my eyes had fooled me.

"Frank?"

"Hmm?"

"You're gonna lose your boner if you keep asking questions." The teasing tone of his voice lightened the tension in the room and I was thankful for it. Any other questions I had melted away and I realized that I really didn't care about anything else. Right now, I wanted to get off. And, in fact, I wanted him to watch me. "Are you ready?" He asked again.

"Yeah, I'm ready." He smiled at the confidence I gained and stuck three digits in the air. He lowered one, then another, and finally the last one went down, and he started the video. "I'm Frank Iero, I'm 19, and... I love Gerard Way." I looked him in the eyes rather than in the camera lens, and he smiled warmly at me. The lighting in the room wasn't good enough to tell, in fact, the only lighting at all came from a single bedside lamp, but I was sure he was blushing anyway.

Soon, the sentimental moment melted away, and I was left with my task. Gerard raised his eyebrows and gestured for me to start before turning around to mess with something on the dresser. It helped that he wasn't intensely watching me, so I tentatively let my hand wander down my chest, to my belt buckle. I slowly undid it, unzipped my jeans, and pushed them off. After they were discarded along with my boxers, a door opened up inside of me, in spite of my vulnerability. The uncomfortable pressure my clothes had trapped me in was lifted and the warm air in the room encompassed me, making me feel more at home within myself.

My hand found my swollen, much neglected, cock, and grasped it, beginning to pump it slowly and tentatively. After days of abiding by Gerard's one rule, need coursed through my veins. A low moan built at the back of my throat as my motions increased in speed.

Gerard turned from his spot against the dresser then and walked to the bed, kneeling down next to it. The thing he'd been giving his attention to was a camera, a really fucking expensive camera, that I knew would capture my body in high definition. Something about that, paired with his lust blown stare, urged me on, making my dick twitch in my hand. I realized that I liked him watching me.

I pressed my thumb against the head of my cock and rubbed it lightly, the sensitivity making my back arch and waves of pleasure run through me. My breath shuddered as I continued to do this, already feeling heat pool through my stomach.

I was vaguely aware of a shuttering sound to my right, denoting that Gerard was in fact taking photos of me. I turned to look at him, going back to stroking myself. He was twisting the lens, it was pointed towards my now leaking cock, and his finger pressed down on a button that I assumed captured the photo.

The sensation of being cherished, or worshiped, as Gerard put it, washed over me, and I felt myself start to cry again. I hoped to God he wouldn't think much of it and that he wouldn't stop me. Luckily, his only response was to point the camera at my face and capture the tears that slid down it. He knew I wasn't upset. He knew I was happy, rather than the opposite.

My soft moans of pleasure and the faint shuttering of the camera were the only sounds to fill the room. Suddenly, Gerard stood up and took a few steps back. He motioned for me to stop and I complied, a bit disappointed that I hadn't reached my orgasm yet.

"I want you to come untouched." He whispered, too quietly for the camera to pick up. I could see how turned on he was through his jeans and I nearly whimpered at how badly I wanted him inside me.

I didn't question him, though. I stuck two fingers in my mouth, covering them as much as possible, before allowing my hand to roam back down to between my legs. He walked around to the other side of the bed and reached out to touch my thigh. I shivered at his touch, nearly moaning at the sensation of him against my soft flesh. He pushed my leg further up, exposing me to him and both cameras more than I had been previously.

"Gerard..." I whined, looking over to him with pleading eyes. I pressed a finger against my entrance, knowing that he wouldn't give in no matter how badly I begged. "I want you so bad." I felt more hot tears slide down my face and he reached out to wipe them away.

"I'll join you next time." He promised quietly, before raising the camera up to his face again, signifying that our short conversation was over.

With that, I pushed my index finger into myself, groaning at the intrusion. I wasn't at all used to this, it wasn't something I did often, but I didn't, by any means, dislike it. More shuttering went off, now to my left side, but I didn't look to see where the camera was pointed. Instead, I focused on my own pleasure that was slowly increasing again. Once I had gotten used to one digit, I added another.

" _Ughh_... _Gee_..." Moans rolled off my tongue, steadily growing louder as I rocked against my hand, my need for release becoming more urgent. My hips nearly bucked up on their own and I had to stop them, surprising myself at how much self control I'd retained. Gaining more confidence, I added a third finger, and immediately brushed against my prostate. "Ah, fuck! Fuck,"

At this point, I stopped caring about taking my time or dragging it out so Gerard could get the perfect shot. I only cared about my fast approaching orgasm, and getting myself there as soon as possible.

I rubbed my fingers against that same spot, thrusting them in and out of myself. My eyes shut, the only thing outside of my pleasure that I took note of was the constant flow of shuttering noises to my left. My free hand moved to wrap around my now heavy cock, but it was promptly slapped away and I whined despite myself.

"Imagine it were me." Gerard's low pitched voice whispered right against my ear and pushed me over the edge. I came, untouched, like he'd wanted me to, onto my stomach. My moans turned into chants of his name and curse words, my every muscle constricting with the waves of ecstasy my orgasm supplied me with. I milked it for all it was worth, riding my own fingers until the feeling began to fade and was replaced with oversensitivity.

I slid out of myself and opened my eyes, only just then realizing that Gerard was holding my hand. I was squeezing his harder than I would've if I'd known our hands were linked together in the first place. He smiled at me with a look of pride and admiration that I couldn't help but feel my heart swell at.

"You did so good, Frankie. You're so fucking beautiful. I knew you could do it for me, sweetheart." Gerard said, his words of encouragement only inflating my sense of accomplishment. He took his hand from mine, swiped some of the cum from my stomach, and popped the finger in his mouth before getting up and turning the camera off.

"Can I... See the photos?" I asked, suddenly feeling shy again. I pushed myself up on the bed, feeling a bit dizzy once I sat up.

"You want to?" He questioned, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, if that's okay." I leaned over to pick my shirt up from the floor and quickly cleaned myself with it.

"Of course." Gerard, if anything, seemed really pleased that I'd asked.

He came over once again to sit next to me, bringing the camera with him. After pressing a few buttons, he tilted it so the display screen was presenting the photos to me.

The first photo was of my swollen, leaking erection, caught between my fingers. But, as unappealing as that may sound, the lighting and quality worked together to make it look more sensual and artistic, rather than brash and pornographic. This rang true for all the other photos Gerard took of me as well. They were all very close up, some of my face, my tears, or my red lips, hung open from my moaning. Others were of my skin, my hands, the tattoos that littered my chest, or of course, my dick. Surprisingly enough, those were my favorites. I also liked the few shots he got of the sticky white substance that left me, dripping from the slit of my cock into the small pool of it on my torso.

"So?" Gerard asked after showing me the last photo – a photo of our hands bound together, mine practically bruising his. "What do you think?"

"Honestly? I think it's my new favorite hobby."


End file.
